by J. L. Wilder
© Copyright 2019 by J.L. Wilder- All rights reserved.
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The White Omega
Hells Bears MC
By: J.L. Wilder
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Table of Contents
The White Omega: Hell’s Bears MC
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Preview of Omega’s Bears: Hell’s Bears MC
About The Author
The White Omega: Hell’s Bears MC
Chapter One
Blind River, Ontario is a tiny town outside Toronto. It’s poised on the North Channel of Lake Huron and on the Blind River itself, and as such, it’s a great place for fishing, boating, and other water sports. Which means there’s plenty here to keep our less than four thousand residents occupied, even when the town isn’t drawing in tourists. Which it really doesn’t do that much of, despite the local government’s best efforts to put us on the map. Most towns in Ontario have a fall festival. Ours isn’t anything special.
I know all of this from the internet, not from having actually explored the town. Because I’m not allowed outside the house.
It took me years to have a problem with the way I’m treated. It took me until I was sixteen to fully understand that it wasn’t right, or normal, to keep me inside all the time. And when I figured it out, of course, I did the dumbest thing I could possibly have done—I went to the alpha of our pack, Sinclair. He was old then, probably in his seventies, and I didn’t like talking to him if I could help it. But going to the alpha was the quickest way to get a question answered.
He scoffed at me, though, when I asked him if I could attend public school. “Certainly not, Jacie,” he said. “An omega in a public school! Disgusting idea.”
“Would it matter?” I asked, trying not to let the images I was sure he was visualizing—images of every boy in school drooling after me, images of me laid out like a meal for the taking on a cafeteria table—into my own mind. “No one would be shifters at the public school. Would they even know the difference?”
He eyed me beadily. “Believe me, girl,” he said, “you go out that door and you’ll be set upon in minutes, and then we’ll be stuck with some filthy half breed baby taking the food from our table. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay inside this house.”
I knew a threat when I heard one. If I left the house, my status in the pack would somehow become even lower than it was already. I didn’t know how that could be—I was already at the absolute bottom of the totem pole—but I wasn’t exactly curious to find out. So, when the time came to register the others in the pack for the new school term, I was quiet. I downloaded the homeschooling materials from the Canadian Board of Education website the way I did every year and resolved to leave well enough alone.
But I did make one change that year. That was the year I downloaded not only the eleventh-grade study materials, but the twelfth-grade ones too. I was determined to finish my high school degree as quickly as possible; by the end of that school year, if I could. I didn’t know what good such a thing might do me, but any means of securing additional power had to be a good thing. By that spring, I was ready. I took the test, got my certification, and registered for classes with the local community college for the summer.
I told nobody what I’d done. Nobody else in my pack ever knew.
Now, nine years later, I have to admit that the plan doesn’t seem as clever as it did when I came up with it. I’m twenty-five years old and I’ve achieved college degrees in several fields, and that’s especially impressive when one considers that I’m only allowed internet access for two hours every day. But what good is it, really? It doesn’t get me any closer to being able to leave the house.
God, I’d love to get out of here.
The one redeeming feature of this house, after all these years, is that I have my own room with an adjoining bathroom. Of course, I’m locked in it when I’m in heat, and that’s not ideal. But they don’t take it away from me the rest of the time, which means I have somewhere to go that’s mine, somewhere I can be alone.
Not that I can trust other people not to come in.
I’m lying on my bed and flipping through a magazine when the door bursts open. It’s Sheldon, Sinclair’s youngest son. He’s thirty-three, but I swear, he acts like he’s about fourteen.
Sheldon flops down on my bed as if he owns it. “What are you doing?”
I indicate the magazine. “Reading.”
“Aiden says you should come down for dinner.” Aiden, Sinclair’s oldest son and the alpha of our pack since his father died, takes far too much pleasure in the authority afforded him by his rank. As alpha, he knows if he gives a command, I’ll have to obey it. Sending Sheldon is his way of toying with me, letting me know that he could make me come down if he wanted to. It doesn’t really have the desired effect on me, though, because as much as he’s screwing with me, he’s screwing with Sheldon even more by using him this way.
“I’ll come in a bit,” I say.
“We’re going running,” Sheldon informs me.
“You go every weekend.”
“Yeah. Well, you can’t come.”
“Shel, I have literally never been.” Sometimes, I think he’s not right in the head. Sometimes, I could almost feel sorry for him. “I’m not allowed out of the house, remember?”
“You’d get knocked up.”
“Sure.” I flip a page in my magazine, doing my best to ignore him. He wants me to get upset, but he’s going about it all wrong. Being told he would have to stay behind on the run would be heartbreaking for Sheldon, probably, but it’s every day of my life for me. He might as well be telling me I can’t fly to the moon.
Seeing that I’m not going to have a tantrum, Sheldon leaves. After a moment, little as I want to, I put the magazine aside and follow. The truth is, I am hungry. If I go down when the others are eating, I’ll get a hot meal, but if I wait, I’ll have to forage for leftovers.
Sheldon and Aiden’s sister, Nori, has made lasagna tonight. Robotically, she scoops some onto a plate and shoves it at me. Nori is never especially unkind to me, but she treats me like one of her dozen cubs—as if I’m immature and a bit irritating, without an identity that she has any time to worry about distinguishing from all the others. Her lasagna is delicious. I grab a fork and lean up against a
wall in the corner of the packed room to eat.
Aiden is seated at the head of the table, already shirtless, clearly ready to begin the night’s fun. He’s shoveling massive forkfuls of lasagna into his mouth and washing them down with beer straight from the can. His eyes rake over me and, as always, a little shudder crawls down my spine. Aiden is in his early forties and muscular. By day, he works as a mechanic and he often returns home covered in grease. Rather than showering, his practice is generally to strip off his day clothes and roam the house in his boxers, which I find skeevy. He’s also not shy about touching people with his greasy hands. Aiden’s attitude seems to be that, as the alpha, he owns all of us anyway.
He swallows the dregs of his beer can and pushes his plate away. “Jacie,” he says, not bothering to look at me, “clean up the kitchen by the time we get back home.”
“When will that be?” I ask, my voice flawlessly polite. I’ve had years of practice.
“Sunrise, I’d think,” Aiden says. “There’s a group of tourists camping by the river. I think we should play with them. Give them something to tell their friends back home about.”
Sheldon chuckles appreciatively at this. Nori rolls her eyes, as if the idea of her brothers scaring the daylights out of some tourists is just boys being boys or something. All around me, the others in the room start to peel their clothes off until they’re standing around in nothing but undergarments.
“Are the kids all asleep?” Leigh asks the group at large as she makes her way out onto the porch.
“All the little ones are,” says her husband, Connor. “I checked on them before I came to dinner. And the older ones are in their rooms. If anyone wakes up, Jacie will be here to look after them.” This is perfectly true, of course—I’d never let anything bad happen to any of the kids—but he could ask. It would be polite.
I go back inside when they’re all on the porch. I know what’s going to happen next, and I don’t like to watch it. I suppose there’s a part of me that is jealous. I suppose there’s a part of me that does want to go on the run, and it hurts to know that I never will. But I’m an omega. That’s not going to be part of my life.
Even though I don’t intend to look, I glance through the window over the sink, and it’s impossible to miss them. Their white coats gleam in the night. A long line of powerfully built, beautiful polar bears, running into the forest, running from my front door. My family. And I’ll never be one of them.
Chapter Two
With the dishes washed, I check on the kids. The small cubs are all still asleep in their shared room. They won’t learn to shift at will until they’re older, but it’s fun to look at them in their sleep, when they don’t know what’s going on. They haven’t mastered control of their bodies yet. They usually stay human—human form is so much more familiar to them—but the bear is in there, and sometimes, bear traits come out when they’re asleep. Tonight, one of them has shifted his usual dark brown hair into snow white fur, just on his head. I pull out my phone and snap a picture. I always think maybe I’ll share these moments with their mothers, but I never do, somehow.
Then I go back to my own room. I consider using this time to shift myself. I almost never do that either. It’s strange to take bear form inside a house. It feels wrong, unnatural. The bear part of me wants to run, wants to be outside. It gets itchy and uncomfortable if I force it to sit in a room. I do it sometimes anyway, but only because I don’t want to forget how to access that part of myself. I don’t want to lose the skill for lack of practice.
I decide tonight isn’t the night and head to the bathroom instead. While everyone else is out is a great time to indulge in the kind of luxuries I can’t take advantage of most of the time. I can take a long hot bath, and with the others out of the way, I won’t have to worry about being walked in on. No one respects my privacy in this pack. I’m an omega, after all.
Even though I know it’s almost unheard of—that omegas are so rare as to make the odds astronomical—I wish there was another omega in our pack. I really have no idea how much of the way I’m treated is normal, no more or less than an omega can expect, and how much of it is over the top. I do understand why everyone has always resisted my going out in public, even though I don’t agree with it. They’re afraid I’ll be imprinted on, that someone will claim me as a mate. I don’t know if that can happen between an omega and a non-shifter, but it doesn’t seem like it could. I do know that I’m probably safe as long as I’m not in heat. I should be able to go out most of the time. Tonight should have been fine, especially surrounded by the rest of the pack. But maybe they’re just being overly cautious.
Maybe.
It’s well after midnight—but still several hours before sunrise—when I finally make my way to bed and fall asleep
THE OTHER GOOD THING about a run night, apart from the fact that I get the house to myself for an evening, is that most of my pack sleeps late the following day. I get up early, thinking I’ll make some breakfast for myself and the kids and then go read on the porch for a while. If the others see me on the porch, they usually send me back inside, but Aiden has never laid down an alpha edict forbidding me from spending time there, so it’s a loophole I like to take advantage of.
Today, however, Aiden is waiting for me when I walk outside.
I feel an immediate chill, as if I’m definitely in trouble, but I stand my ground. I haven’t done anything. I can’t deny the power of the alpha, though. Aiden’s gaze freezes me in place. If I wanted to run, I probably could—as long as he didn’t issue a verbal command, that is—but just the force of his eye contact makes it difficult.
And his eye contact is disgusting. It’s like taking a bath in slime. It’s like his dirty hands are already on me. It makes me want to go back upstairs and take a shower.
“Jacie,” he says. His voice is soothing in a way that would be surprising if I hadn’t heard him do this before. It has the desired effect. My nerves begin to settle. I force myself to think about the fact that I don’t like him.
“Good morning, Aiden,” I say. My voice is automatically deferential. Aiden isn’t above backhanding a member of the pack if he feels they aren’t showing him proper respect. “How was the run last night?”
“Not bad,” he muses. “Always good to be out in the fresh air, of course...not that you’d know much about that, I suppose.” And he chuckles. The difference between Aiden and Sheldon is that Aiden isn’t saying these things to try to hurt me. He’s just stating facts. He doesn’t care if I get hurt or not.
“I suppose I wouldn’t,” I agree, wanting to stay on his good side. “Did you find those campers you were talking about?”
“Oh, yes, they’ve packed up and gone home,” he says.
I’m bursting to tell him that tourism is good for the town, that by scaring people away like this he’s really hurting all of us, but that’s exactly the kind of smart mouth that would get me into trouble. I bite my tongue instead.
“Actually,” Aiden says, “we finished with them fairly early, and we got to thinking. You know, our youngest cubs are six years old now. It’s been too long since we’ve had a birth.”
The youngest cubs in the pack happen to be Leigh and Connor’s twins, born near my nineteenth birthday. “I suppose that’s true,” I say cautiously. “Is Leigh planning on trying again?”
“Leigh is a beta, Jacie,” Aiden says. “You know that. She got lucky last time, but she’s very likely to produce only one child. And Nori’s really too old to have any more.”
“Well, the other women—”
“Are also betas.” He looks at me fixedly. “And, of course, your name came up. The fact that you haven’t been bred yet. It’s interesting, don’t you think?”
A part of me has known this moment was coming for years. All my life, maybe. But it would be impossible to overstate the revulsion and fear that fills me now that he’s addressing it directly. “Nobody’s imprinted on me,” I point out.
Aiden ignores that point.
“Here we are, keeping an omega,” he says. “So lucky to have an omega, my father used to say. Such a prize. We must guard her, care for her, make sure no one takes her from us. And yet, she’s lived off our generosity for a quarter of a century—no job, no contribution to the pack—and never been bred.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid if I open my mouth I might cry.
Aiden steps closer to me. “I think, perhaps, I’ve imprinted on you, Jacie,” he says, stroking the backs of his fingers down my cheek and making me shiver. “Wouldn’t that be something? A new bunch of cubs? And with my genes, one of them would surely be our next young alpha.”
He has not imprinted on me. I would know. I would know, wouldn’t I? God, how I wish I knew another omega, someone I could ask about this! Wouldn’t I feel something other than sickness and hatred if someone had truly imprinted on me? Wouldn’t I want him too?
“We’ll tell the rest of the family tonight at dinner, I think,” Aiden muses. He’s not really even talking to me. He doesn’t need an answer from me. “Everyone will be so excited to see our pack grow.”
The tension between us builds. I feel like I’m going to scream.
Then, abruptly, it’s over. He turns away from me, returning to his seat and his mug of coffee, and I flee into the house and up to my room, where I shut the door and wedge a chair under the knob, wishing more than ever that I had a lock.
I know enough to know that Aiden doesn’t need to have truly imprinted on me in order to breed with me. He’ll be able to do it. And he’s strong enough to force me, not to mention the fact that he has the power of the alpha on his side. All he has to do is say the words and I’ll lie there and take him. I won’t be able to resist.
I can’t see any way out.
Chapter Three
“Jacie,” Aiden says as we’re all cleaning up from dinner that night, “take the trash to the curb.”
